


A Flame, Not an Ember

by Violsva



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Comeplay, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Masochism, No Power Play Whatsoever, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 16:21:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21377008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violsva/pseuds/Violsva
Summary: This would have been much easier in a bathhouse.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 7
Kudos: 132





	A Flame, Not an Ember

Bucky stood in front of Clint’s door and tried not to fidget. It felt like an eternity, but it wasn’t actually long enough to make it worth knocking again—or leaving, leaving was always an option (assuming JARVIS hadn’t announced him already)—by the time Clint pulled it open.

“Hey,” he said, perfectly normal and as if he wasn’t half-naked. Bucky blinked at his biceps, his pecs, and didn’t say anything for a moment too long. “Are you—uh, hi.”

His hair was wet. He’d been in the shower. Because they’d just got back. Perfectly normal. Right. “Hi. Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure.” Clint backed up and Bucky followed him in. “Sit down.” He waved at the living room.

Bucky picked the couch and tried to think what he should say. He used to know how to be smooth. This morning, even, he’d been kind of smooth. He’d known what he was going to say before he showed up, more or less. Before knocking he’d had half a conversation already worked out in his head. “So this morning,” he said, and stopped.

“Yeah?” Clint perched on an armchair. Tension ran through him, just a little, but enough to make Bucky feel it too.

“I said—you seemed interested in...” Now, of course, it’s not 1942 anymore and Bucky can’t finish a damned sentence.

“About—when you winked at me,” Clint says, and he’s going a bit pink, and Bucky relaxes a little.

“Yeah. That.”

“Right.” Clint let out a breath. “So, just to check, you want—you’d be cool with, uh.”

_Do I need to put you over my knee?_ Bucky had asked this morning, casual as anything, and Clint had flushed bright red like a lobster dipped in boiling water. He’d answered back, _Like you could catch me_, as if he wasn’t affected at all, and on impulse Bucky had winked at him, and Clint’s eyes had widened, and then they’d had to finish moving robot parts out of Barcelona’s streets and that had been the end of that conversation.

And now Bucky was here bringing it up again. And Clint seemed to be good with that. So he could say this. He’d done a lot of much harder things.

“Spanking me,” Clint finished before Bucky could, and Bucky lost what he was going to say again.

“Yeah,” he managed eventually. Clint relaxed entirely.

“Awesome,” he said, starting to smile. “Great. You done anything like this before?”

“Rough sex? Not since the forties,” Bucky admitted. He hadn’t had _any_ kind of sex since the forties, as far as he knew, but he wasn’t going to bring that up now.

“Huh. So they had it in the forties? Well, I guess people have always been pretty much the same. But, uh. First we should talk.”

Bucky tried to look just surprised, instead of as if he was considering running. Clint gave him a wry look.

“Not about anything serious. Just. Where. How. Logistics, you know. JARVIS, privacy mode.” The lights blinked. “Bed or couch?”

“Couch,” Bucky said, because if they were going to talk then he should actually talk, like a damn human being. “And. Over my knee, like I said.” Clint’s eyes brightened with interest.

“Right. Okay, if either of us says stop then we stop, right?”

“Of course,” Bucky said, frowning. What else would you do?

“Good. Okay. I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough. Oh man. Um.” Clint shook his head. “So you said—this is a sex thing for you, then?”

“Yeah. Is it ... not...?” Bucky was getting the feeling that sex in the future had a lot of rules he didn’t know, and maybe should have researched. This would have been much easier in a bathhouse.

“No, yeah, it is for me too, just checking. Right. Then. In that case.” Clint was going red again. “After, uh, I could suck you off.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, without any intention of saying anything, his eyes falling shut. “Yeah.” Clint between his legs, Clint naked and—“Can I come on you?”

Well, fuck, that was direct. But Clint was being direct too.

“Not on my face,” Clint said firmly, as if that was the only issue with the question. “On my chest, sure.”

Bucky tried not to look like he was imagining that right this second. Clint smirked at him. “That’s, I’m not going to need much more than that, honestly,” Clint said. “Okay.” He looked abstracted for a second, like he was trying to remember something. “And is there anything else you really want, or don’t want?”

Bucky thought about it, trying to remember what he’d done when he was younger. He’d mostly been on the other side of things then. “Don’t call me anything but my name,” he said. He should be thinking about whether his more recent past was going to fuck this up, but he really didn’t want to. “Just—what we talked about is fine.”

“Sure. So we’re not doing anything we haven’t actually talked about.”

“Right.”

“Okay, just a sex. Sec. Sex, whatever.” He got up and went to the kitchen. Bucky heard cupboards opening and water running, and then Clint sprinted down the hall for a second before going into the kitchen again.

“Right,” Clint said, coming out with his arms full of stuff. He managed to get everything onto the coffee table without anything catastrophic happening, to Bucky’s mild surprise. Then he narrowed his eyes at the table and counted off on his fingers. “You’re going to say, if you need to stop,” he said, suddenly focusing on Bucky with a serious expression.

Bucky tried not to wince. “Yes.” That he could do. “But if you aren’t attacking me, I’m not going to—”

“No, I mean, just, if your head goes anywhere weird. Anything that makes you want to stop.” Clint moved the things on the table around aimlessly. Two glasses, a bowl, and a pitcher of water, and a box of condoms. And a crumpled tea towel, like one of Steve’s still lifes. “Say something before it gets to that point.”

“I really don’t think it will,” Bucky said. If he’d thought that he wouldn’t be here. Or probably even in this building.

“Fair.” Clint grinned at him. “Awesome. Should I strip?”

Bucky blinked and gave himself a second to remember what they were doing again. He took a breath, and then really thought about it, about Clint, already shirtless right in front of him. “Yeah,” he said, leaning back and spreading his legs, deliberately relaxing. “Yeah, give me a show.”

He was going to start reacting to that smirk every time, he just knew it. Especially when Clint ran his hands down his body slowly and sensually, and then stopped and laughed a little as if he didn’t realize how hot he was. He caught his thumbs in the waistband of his sweatpants and shoved them down.

“Not a very long show,” Clint said, stepping forward, stark naked. “I mean, wait. Very long.”

“Uh.” Clint had been one step away from naked the entire time they’d been talking. Bucky regained control over his mouth. “Get over here.”

“There’s that old-fashioned sweet talk.” Clint draped himself over Bucky’s lap, shifting a little. It felt ... really good. Now that Clint was in position and they wouldn’t need to move again, Bucky shoved his left arm halfway behind his back so he didn’t have to think about it. “Yeah, this is good.”

“Yeah.” Bucky tried not to just thrust up against Clint’s hips. Clint’s ass was in his lap, and from his slim hips his back widened out to Bucky’s left, up to those fucking shoulders. Clint folded his arms under his head and grinned over his shoulder.

“Okay, go ahead. Hit me.”

Bucky stared down at the—fuck, _perfect_—ass on his lap. He gave into temptation and squeezed it, and then drew back and, well, followed orders.

The smack rang out nicely through the room, but, “Oh, come _on_,” Clint complained immediately. “Harder than that.”

“Maybe I’m warming you up to it,” Bucky snapped.

“I’m warm already, let’s go.” Bucky hit him again, harder. “No, really, I said _hit_ me.”

“Oh, for crying out loud.” Bucky smacked him, not quite with his full strength but hard enough that he expected Clint to object.

“Yes!” Clint straightened, briefly pressing his erection right against Bucky’s, and gasped. “Fuck, just like that.”

Well, all right, then. Bucky did it again, just as hard, and got an enthusiastic shout, and then gave him a couple more too fast for any reaction but gasps.

This was better than he’d imagined it—he’d been trying _not_ to imagine it, and the possibility had still been good enough that he’d screwed up his courage to come and ask, and now—fuck. Faint red handprints were already fading in on Clint’s ass. Bucky aimed a strike on the other cheek, and Clint swore and squirmed a little. Bucky mouthed some profanity of his own and hit Clint again.

He didn’t exactly settle into it—it was too good, and Clint’s reactions weren’t consistent, and he wanted to see what new ones he could provoke. But his focus drew in, until all he was thinking about was the sight and feeling of Clint on his lap, under his hand, the sounds he was making, the way he arched and pushed into and grew red under the strikes. He spanked Clint in time with his own breaths, every second exhale unless he wanted to see how a change of pace would make Clint react.

“Oh god, stop for a sec,” Clint said, and Bucky hesitated, then dropped his hand to his side. “Give me a minute, I’m not stopping, wow, oh my god.” Clint shimmied in his lap, then moaned.

“Fuck,” Bucky whispered, staring down at Clint. Clint was lightly thrusting his hips, and Bucky realized Clint’s cock was rubbing gently against Bucky’s thigh. “Fuck.” Bucky couldn’t stop watching. He softly ran his hand over Clint’s pink ass, and—oh fuck, Clint made an amazing noise at that, and sighed and thrust a little faster. Bucky caressed him, feeling the muscles under his fingers. Clint didn’t have much cushioning anywhere, Bucky thought, frowning.

“Hit me again,” Clint murmured, and Bucky forgot about anything else.

He didn’t hit quite as hard as he had before, but it didn’t seem to matter to Clint’s reactions. After only a couple strikes, though, Clint shook his head and shoved himself up on his hands.

“I’m done, sorry,” he said. “Fuck, that was—mmmm.” He rubbed against Bucky’s thigh a little more, his face tilting up. “Fuck, I want more, but that would not be a good idea. Let me suck your cock.”

“Please,” Bucky groaned, suddenly hit with all of the desire he’d barely felt when he was focusing on Clint.

Clint slid loosely to the floor, landing on his knees between Bucky’s legs. He smiled up at Bucky, his face relaxed and purely happy, and Bucky stared back. He couldn’t remember ever feeling the way Clint looked, and he had no idea how he’d managed to make someone else feel it.

Clint leaned against Bucky’s knee as he unbuttoned his fly and pulled his cock out. “You can absolutely pull my hair, if you want,” he said, and then he leaned in and licked the head, lips sliding around but not taking it in, and then slowly took it deeper, tongue flicking the whole time. Bucky clenched his fists in the couch cushions and let himself just feel this, trying to shove everything else away again.

Clint was good at this. Memories of past sexual encounters were beginning to appear in Bucky’s head, but mostly just enough for Clint to stand out in comparison. Bucky fell back against the couch, his hips shifting, not able to thrust in this position but wanting to anyway.

Clint’s shoulder was moving against his leg, and Bucky glanced down. Oh _god_. Clint was jerking himself off as he sucked Bucky’s cock, and Bucky couldn’t last much longer. Fuck.

Well, Clint had said he could. Bucky pulled on Clint’s hair, and Clint moaned as he released Bucky’s cock.

“Going to come.” Bucky let go of Clint and grabbed his cock.

“Fuck yeah,” Clint said, leaning back a bit and stroking himself faster. His arm flexed as it moved, his face was getting flushed and he was shaking slightly and staring up at Bucky and his mouth was wet and Bucky tried to keep his eyes open as he came.

It splattered across Clint’s pectorals and Bucky kept stroking himself, watching more of his come streak Clint’s chest, watching as Clint squeezed his eyes shut and groaned as he came too, getting more of it on himself, _fuck_.

Bucky let go of his dick and slumped back. Clint was panting for breath at his feet, and Bucky just lay there, as Clint recovered and then got up and did something involving the water on the coffee table.

“Hey,” Clint said, and then a wet cloth brushed across Bucky’s hand. “Hey, you mind?” And then he was crawling into Bucky’s lap, damp but clean, and still naked. Bucky reached up cautiously, and Clint snuggled under his arm. “That was amazing, thanks,” he said cheerfully, and relaxed.

Bucky held still under him until Clint asked, “You good?”

“I think so?” he said. He hadn’t intended to sound that hesitant, hadn’t intended to say that at all. It made him stop and actually take stock of himself.

He’d liked it. He’d liked it a _lot_, and now Clint was cuddling him as if—

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked.

“What, _me_? Yeah, I’m great, I’m spectacular, that was awesome.” Clint pulled enough away that he could look into Bucky’s face, and after a moment Bucky managed to look back at him. “You gave me exactly what I wanted,” Clint said. “Exactly what I asked for. You didn’t do anything we hadn’t talked about.”

Bucky nodded.

“Do you—I don’t know—just relax. Stay here.” Clint shifted just enough to reach the coffee table and offered Bucky a glass of water. “Drink.”

Bucky took the glass in his left hand, the one that wasn’t still half wrapped around Clint, and drank. When he put it aside Clint added, “Ten out of ten, would play again. Whenever you’re up for it.”

Bucky nodded again, cautiously. “Breathe,” Clint suggested, and he did. It helped. “You okay with me here?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, and pulled Clint a bit closer. Clint shifted and shoved him a bit and they ended up with Bucky lying on the couch properly, Clint on top of him. Clint sighed and rested his head on Bucky’s chest.

Bucky looked down at him, and realized he’d wrapped both his arms around Clint, who didn’t seem to mind the metal one.

Yeah, that had been good.


End file.
